Deadly Little Voices by Laurie Faria Stolarz

Author:Laurie Faria Stolarz [Stolarz, Laurie Faria]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2012-01-15T03:44:42+00:00

I SPEND THE NEXT FEW DAYS trying to talk to Danica: before school, when she gets off the bus, in the library during my free blocks, and between classes whenever I spot her by her locker.

But not once during any of those times does she even breathe in my direction, let alone engage me in any conversation that involves more than a grunt in passing to acknowledge my existence.

Not so different from Kimmie.

Though Kimmie and I still sit together at lunch and in sculpture class, our conversations have been mostly superficial, centered around safe topics (those that don’t include Danica, touch, or anything extrasensory).

I’ve continued to try to talk to her about the rift in our relationship, asking if we can get together, if I can come over to chat, if we can go split a peanut-butter barrel at Brain Freeze like we used to. “I’m sorry,” I told her voice mail last night, devastated by the idea that she no longer cared—that she could so easily cut me out of her life. I slept with my phone clenched in my grip, hoping she’d call me back.

But, sadly, she never did.

And so I’ve decided to give her some space and focus my attention on Danica. By Thursday after school, I finally get Danica to talk.

She’s sitting on one of the benches in front of the main building. I cross the lawn and stand right in front of her, waiting until she acknowledges me.

“You of all people should know there’s a law against stalking,” she says, barely looking up from her notebook.

“Are you planning to report me?” I ask.

“I’m thinking about it.”

“Okay, but can you please just give me five minutes of your time first? I promise I won’t bother you any longer than that.”

“Five minutes,” she says, glancing at her watch. “Then I have to go to work.”

I sit down beside her and gaze out over the lawn, where the first signs of spring are breaking through the soil in the Tree Huggers’ flower bed. Danica props her backpack between us, to block what she’s writing, perhaps, and I notice an ad for vaginal itch cream stuck to the front pocket.

“So, what’s all the fuss?” she asks.

“Like I said before, I’m trying to be a friend here.”

“Yes, but why?”

“Look, I know I was there that day…at the park…with the Candies and the avocados…”

“Excuse me?” she asks, pretending to be confused. She looks away, and I rip the itch cream ad from her bag. “Am I really that much of a charity case?” she asks.

“Danica—no.”

“It was actually a rhetorical question.” She slams her notebook shut. “I’ve known the real answer for years now, but it’s not like I even care.”

“I need to ask you something,” I tell her.

“Hence the reason you’ve been stalking me?”

“Do you have any enemies?”

“Another rhetorical question?” She nods toward the pack of Candies standing in front of the auditorium doors. All are wearing matching puffy pink jackets; they stare at us, making the L-for-Loser sign by holding their fingers up to their foreheads.

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